


Ark

by cuubism



Series: whumptober [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality Issues (Shadowhunter Chronicles), M/M, Serious Injuries, Temporary Amnesia, decently good communication, he recovers tho, very temporary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuubism/pseuds/cuubism
Summary: After a memory scare, Magnus becomes terrified that he’ll lose his memories of Alec after he’s dead and embarks on a project to save them.alt prompt 9 - memory loss
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: whumptober [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949743
Comments: 23
Kudos: 84





	Ark

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be for whumptober but lets not talk about it

Magnus gets hit so hard that Alec feels the phantom snap of it through his own spine. The moment feels infinite: the _smack_ of the Circle member’s staff against Magnus’s head, the blood blooming across his forehead, the boneless crumple of his body to the ground.

“Magnus!”

Alec runs for him, dispatching the Circle member with an arrow almost as an afterthought. He falls to his knees by his husband’s side, heedless of the battle still raging around them, touching Magnus’s shoulder gingerly.

He’s— he’s so _still_. And there’s _so_ much blood. Alec knows that head wounds bleed a lot, that this is expected—but it’s still frightening to see so much of _Magnus’s_ blood spilling across the street.

Alec touches a shaky hand to Magnus’s pulse, letting out a relieved breath to feel it still fluttering. But that— he has to swallow roughly to stop the tears from falling— that doesn’t really mean much in the long run.

Magnus was hit _hard._

“Hey.” Izzy skids to a stop beside him, and Alec belatedly realizes the battle is over. A handful of Circle members are in cuffs, the rest dead on the ground. “Is he okay?”

Alec can’t take his hand away from the subtle thumping of Magnus’s pulse. “I— I don’t know.”

Cat tells him by phone that it’s safe to transport Magnus, so Alec carries him through her portal back to the Institute infirmary. He knows Magnus won’t want to wake up there, but Alec needs to take advantage of any medical help he can get.

He sets Magnus down on the pristine white sheets of an infirmary bed, slips off his shoes and tucks them under the bed. He looks _wrong_ like this, still in his blood-and-dirt-spattered clothes, limbs at awkward angles. Magnus in bed is a soft and languid thing, not this wounded stillness that leaves smears of blood across the sheets.

“The cut is superficial,” Cat says, healing Magnus’s bleeding forehead in a flicker of magic. “It’s the impact I’m worried about.”

Alec can’t help but think he should have been paying closer attention, should have been at Magnus’s side—even if just to push him out of the way. He wishes he could kill the Circle member twice over.

“Can you get any sense of how serious it is with your magic?” he asks.

Cat has her hand pressed to Magnus’s forehead, eyes closed, probing. “There’s some swelling. But brains are tricky. I can’t say what the effects will be, if any.”

She looks worried, and Cat has an excellent poker face, so that’s not a good sign.

Alec takes Magnus’s hand and squeezes. “Should I take him home? Will it help?”

Cat shakes her head. “You have better facilities here. Better not to risk it.”

So Alec ends up sitting by Magnus’s side, watching him breathe, and resolves to stay there as long as it takes.

Magnus, in typically dramatic fashion, wakes suddenly in the middle of the night, when the infirmary is dark and nearly quiet.

Alec’s still holding his hand. He wants to stroke his hair, but is too afraid to touch Magnus anywhere near where he was injured.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t allowed to do this to me again,” he’s in the middle of saying to him, when Magnus shifts and groans softly.

“If by ‘this’ you mean blacking out,” he mumbles around a grimace, “fear not. I’m never drinking again.”

“Magnus?” Alec squeezes his hand, sort of hard, and stands up to see him better.

Magnus presses a weak hand to his forehead. “Tis I!” he says with little enthusiasm. “Party’s over now, I’m afraid.”

“No, you— you weren’t drinking, you took a blow to the head. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Magnus blinks slowly and looks up at him. “Alec?” His tone isn’t its usual fondness, it’s more… _surprise_ , and the first hints of unease start to curl in Alec’s chest.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Alec touches his cheek gently. “How are you feeling?”

Magnus stares at him like he doesn’t understand what Alec’s doing, but he doesn’t push him off. Then he seems to take in his surroundings and shoots upward, almost smacking Alec in the forehead.

 _“What_ am I doing here? I know you Shadowhunters think you can just do whatever you want, but you can’t actually—”

He’s trying to climb out of bed, and Alec can’t let that happen. Somehow, he instinctively knows going for Magnus’s wrist is a bad idea right now, so he grabs his thigh instead—which seems to short-circuit Magnus’s brain enough that he stops moving and just stares at Alec, eyes wide.

“Easy,” Alec tells him. “I know you’re a little confused, but it’s okay. You’re safe now. I got you.”

He wants to reach out and touch his face, kiss his forehead maybe—but the way Magnus is looking at him—

“Not to be ungrateful,” Magnus says, and there’s a twist of bitterness in his voice now. He glances down at where Alec’s hand is still on his thigh, “but whatever game you’re playing, I’d appreciate if you stopped.”

A choked sort of feeling makes its home in Alec’s throat. “I’m not playing a game.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Alec tries to catch Magnus’s gaze, but Magnus won’t look at him. “You were injured,” he repeats evenly, even though he kind of wants to start yelling. “I’m taking care of you.”

 _“Why?”_ Magnus demands, eyes snapping up to meet Alec’s, and Alec almost flinches at the hurt he sees there. “Don’t you have a wedding to plan?”

 _“What?”_ The floor spirals out from underneath Alec and he just stares at Magnus, heart pounding. “What are you talking about?”

Magnus scoffs. “Don’t play mind games with me.”

“I’m not. Magnus! Do you really not—”

Magnus curls away from him, looking wounded, and says, voice only trembling slightly, “I would prefer if you didn’t touch me.”

Alec pulls his hand away from him, curls it into a loose, useless fist. He’s not sure he can breathe. “Magnus—”

“If I’m truly not a prisoner here,” Magnus says slowly, hands clenched into the fabric of his pants, “then I’m going home.”

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, looking unsteady, but manages to stand up, starts stumbling for the infirmary doorway—

And Alec doesn’t know how to stop him, all he can do is say, desperately— “Magnus, wait.”

And, against all odds, Magnus waits. He pauses by the door, leaning heavily on the frame. He’s not looking at Alec, but Alec can tell he’s listening.

Alec thinks he’s figured out what’s going on, and while he doesn’t know how to fix it, or how to stop the panic spiraling in his stomach, he does know one thing: he can’t let Magnus leave.

“Just—please. You’re still injured. Just—sit back down, and I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

Magnus turns halfway around to look at him, but doesn’t come back to his infirmary bed. Instead he crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall. “I’m listening.”

“So…” Alec doesn’t really know how to start. At the end would be best, he supposes. “Like I said, you weren’t drinking. We were— fighting Circle members. And one of them hit you over the head. _Hard_. We weren’t— I think you’re missing some memories.”

“ _‘We’_ were fighting Circle members?” Magnus repeats, a bit of his hostility dropping. He seems confused. “What, together?”

 _Of course._ “Yeah,” Alec says, “yes.”

_“Why?”_

“Because… _we’re_ together.” Magnus just stares at him, so Alec hastens to elaborate— “Listen, it’s— you’re missing more than a year, I know it’s a lot— but we’ll talk to Cat, I’m sure she can—”

“We’re—” Magnus starts to interrupt, but cuts off almost immediately with a hard swallow. “I— oh.”

Alec doesn’t know what to say to him then, is helpless to do anything but watch the complicated play of emotions across Magnus’s face. Surprise, and then a tremulous sort of hope. And then something like resignation.

“I thought,” Magnus finally says, sounding a little sad, “you’d decided you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Alec’s heart pangs, even if it isn’t an unreasonable conclusion for Magnus— _this_ Magnus, with _these_ memories—to come to. But before he can disabuse him of it, Magnus is turning away, clutching his head.

 _“Fuck,”_ he mutters under his breath, “I’m too old for this.”

Alec takes a step closer. “Magnus?”

Magnus doesn’t seem to hear him. He drops to his knees, breath hitching, palms tight to his temples.

Alec reaches his side in the next second, laying a careful hand on his shoulder. _“Magnus?”_

One of Magnus’s hands flails unseeingly in Alec’s direction, but doesn’t connect, and in the next moment Magnus is slumping sideways, his eyes rolling back in his head. Alec catches him, lowering him to the floor and cradling Magnus’s head in his lap, heart hammering, already scrambling in his pocket for his phone to call Cat.

But before he can even finish dialing, Magnus is stirring again with a groan, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

“…Magnus?” Alec tries again, tentatively, even daring to brush Magnus’s hair off his forehead.

“‘Tis I,” Magnus murmurs, but his tone sounds more familiar this time, more long-suffering, and Alec feels his heart settle a little in his chest. “What have I done in life to deserve this nonsense, Alexander?”

Alec lets out a long breath, feeling himself settle even more when Magnus reaches up to take his hand. “I don’t know. I hope it’s over now, though.”

Magnus just sighs, leaning his face into Alec’s thigh and looking up at him. “Do you think Cat will let me have a drink? Or seven. I think I deserve it.”

“Never mind Cat. _I_ won’t let you have a drink. You just woke up from a head injury.”

Magnus tuts in disapproval, but doesn’t protest, just lets his eyes fall shut again, his free hand coming up to cover them and block out the world. And Alec finally finishes dialing Cat, tells her quietly what happened, Magnus held in his arms all the while.

Even without a head injury, Magnus’s memory is, actually, not very good. Most people who don’t know him well think it is—Alec’s witnessed it: people’s amazement that he can remember such complicated potions and incantations, that he can drop historical tidbits into any conversation. But Alec knows better.

He’s witnessed Magnus pacing long into the night because he’s forgotten the ingredient to a potion and can’t find it in his notes anywhere. He’s seen him poring through ancient texts for the details of a spell that have slipped his mind, or old photo albums for a forgotten friend’s face. It’s only inevitable that, after hundreds of years of memories, some of it would start to spill out like too much water cupped in his hands.

Truthfully, Magnus is just exceptionally good at problem solving, which allows him to make up for his memory slips almost entirely. But it seems that, whatever problem his memory is plaguing him with now, he _isn’t_ able to solve.

Ever since Cat gave Magnus the all-clear, Alec’s watched him run around nonstop, barely taking a moment to sit down or even sleep. He’s been working—in his apothecary, at the Spiral Labyrinth, at his other properties around the world—but on _what_ , Alec doesn’t know.

All he knows is that it has to stop. Or at least _pause_.

A portal opens and Magnus stumbles out, heading straight for his apothecary. Alec darts up from the couch to catch him.

“Magnus. _Magnus—”_

Magnus holds up a hand. “I’m sorry, Alexander, I don’t have time, I’m in the middle of—”

Alec catches him by the wrist. “I know, I know, but you’ve been going nonstop for days, I just—”

Magnus’s composure starts to frazzle. He tugs at Alec’s grip, gaze still fixed on the apothecary. “I just need to finish—”

 _“Magnus.”_ Alec steps in front of him, trying to get Magnus to meet his gaze. “Come on. Just talk to me for a second. Then you can go back to work, I promise.”

Magnus sighs, some of his manic energy fizzing out into the air. “I have to finish this project,” he says, quieter now.

Alec guides him back to sit down on the couch, not missing the way Magnus’s body sags into the cushions. He takes Magnus’s hands in his, holding them lightly. “What project?”

Magnus’s gaze slants away over his shoulder. “I don’t—” he trails off, biting his lip.

“You don’t want to tell me?” Alec guesses.

“I don’t want to upset you with it,” Magnus clarifies.

“It’s okay.” Alec leans in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Come on. You can tell me anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Magnus lets out a long breath, playing with Alec’s hands. “I know I only lost my memories for a few minutes,” he begins, “but it was… deeply unsettling. To think of how _easily_ I lost _everything_ —”

“It’s pretty normal to have some memory loss after a head injury,” Alec reminds him gently, “remember what Cat said?”

“I know. But it’s not _this_ memory loss that upsets me so much. It’s—” he takes in a shuddering breath— “I _lost_ you. For a moment. What if I— what if, hundreds of years from now, I hit my head again?” He meets Alec’s eyes now, desperate and searching. “Or what if—” his voice starts to shake like it’s _this_ , this latter option, that scares him even more— “what if I just— _forget?_ What if I lose you, just—with _time?_ What if I wake up one day and I—”

Alec squeezes Magnus's fluttering hands tight, interrupting his rambling. “Okay,” he says softly, throat growing tight at the look on Magnus’s face, “okay. Show me what you’re working on.”

Magnus snaps his fingers and a colorless crystal appears in his hands, presumably summoned from the apothecary. A shimmer of his fingers turns out all the lights, and they’re plunged into darkness, the crystal still glimmering faintly in the streetlights coming in through the windows. Magnus summons a tiny blue flame and presses it into the crystal, which starts to glow from within, taking the magic on as its own.

Alec waits, intrigued but apprehensive at what this could mean. Magnus waves a hand over the crystal and an array of images spirals out, illuminating the space around them. Alec recognizes them immediately as memories of the two of them, and in the next moment realizes the goal of Magnus’s project.

 _“Oh,_ Magnus…”

“It’s a record,” Magnus says nervously, watching the images circle around them. “A vault. It stores memories, exactly as they were remembered and available for recall at any time. There are other ways of storing memories, of course, but not many that are meant for indefinite keeping. These will never degrade or disappear from their place in the crystal.”

“Does it take the memories out of _your_ memory?” Alec asks.

“No, just records them. Like a backup copy. In case—”

“In case you lose them. Yeah, I understand.”

Magnus turns back to him. “Are you upset?”

Alec lays a hand on his thigh. “No, Magnus, of course I’m not upset with you.”

“Because I know you don’t like thinking about it.”

Alec sighs, trying to push aside, for now at least, the thought of Magnus having to go on without him. “I don’t, but if this helps you…”

“It alleviates a concern,” Magnus admits. Understated about his own feelings as always. “It’s not complete yet. I’ve only spelled about twenty-five percent of the crystal so far. It can hold a lot more memories than this.”

“How many?”

“I’m not sure yet. There is a limit to it, though. Even once it’s finished, I won’t be able to put _all_ my memories in it. Only certain ones. It takes continuous magic to maintain, you see.”

“How much magic does it take?” Alec asks.

Magnus hesitates.

“Magnus. How much magic?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Magnus says. “It’s a necessary drain. Like my glamour and wards. In any case, that’s why for now I’ll only be able to share the schematics with other Warlocks. We’re the only ones who have the right magic to use it.”

Alec barely hears this latter piece, fixated on the fact that Magnus is continuously weakening himself for this. “Magnus—”

“Please don’t protest.” Magnus’s voice is subdued, he clearly knows exactly what Alec’s objections will be. “I need this.”

Alec takes his hands and squeezes them, wrapping the crystal in between their palms. “At least promise me you’ll be careful not to overexert yourself? And that you’ll try to find a way to make the thing energy independent, if possible?”

Magnus just nods, looking away. And suddenly Alec can’t stand not being closer to him, not after almost losing him, after hearing Magnus talk about them inevitably losing each other.

He pulls Magnus into a hug, pressing his face into his shoulder. The memories flicker out around them as Magnus puts the crystal to rest and vanishes it away somewhere, and they’re left in darkness.

“What you’ve made is incredible,” Alec tells him, and feels Magnus soften into his hold. “But please don’t show it to me again, at least for a little while. I just—”

“I understand.” Magnus’s fingers tighten in Alec’s shirt. “Let’s make new memories now instead of—”

“Right.” That’s not nearly all of it, but Alec can’t say it out loud, and he won’t make Magnus say it either. For now, he just wants to hold his husband.

“What you said in the infirmary,” he finally says when he can speak again over the tightness in his throat, “I _never_ decided that I didn’t want anything to do with you.”

Magnus makes a low sound against his neck. “I know. I know that wasn’t what spurred your decision. I knew it then, too.”

“But you were hurting.”

Magnus hums, which is very much an answer for all that it isn’t one.

Alec holds him tighter, even though he knows Magnus doesn’t blame him for his decision-making back then. Alec doesn’t even really blame _himself_. He knows why he did what he did.

He just wishes he hadn’t hurt Magnus while doing it.

“I won’t forget you,” Magnus says, as if he thinks Alec’s merely trying to distract from this point. Maybe he is.

Alec presses a kiss to the side of his neck. “I know.”

Alec isn’t sure exactly what wakes him, if it’s Magnus stirring or his own uneasy dreams full of darkness and his husband turning his back to him. All he knows is when he does wake, their bedroom is subtly lit, a hazy blue glow that he can’t quite identify until he sees Magnus sitting up beside him, the glowing crystal held in his hands.

“Did I wake you?” He asks quietly as Alec shifts in closer to him, not quite sitting up, more leaning into his side.

“No.”

They both sit in silence for a moment, watching the tiny memories swirl around the room.

“I’m glad it comforts you,” Alec finally says. He doesn’t need to ask what Magnus must have been dreaming about that had led to this.

Magnus hums, not looking at him. “Better than an arrowhead in a box, hmm?” There’s no humor in it.

And Alec may not like being reminded of his own mortality, but it’s only right, he thinks, that Magnus has something like this. Something that will stay with him, something to keep him adrift in the storm once Alec’s gone.

Alec pulls himself upright, wraps an arm around him and presses a kiss to his forehead, right where Magnus was injured. Magnus makes a soft sound and leans into it.

And Alec holds him for a moment, tucks his nose into Magnus’s hair. And then asks, “So, do you think you want that drink now?”

Magnus lets out a startled laugh, and the spell is broken. He tucks the crystal away somewhere and leans his head on Alec’s shoulder. “You know, Alexander, I think I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://cuubism.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
